Genso Suikogaiden Vol1 -Visitors-
by Moonlight M3lody
Summary: Novelization of the first part of the game. Nash Laktje was not prepared to deal with an over 800-years old vampire, but a lead was a lead. The mission to find more about the True Runes was getting more difficult than he had expected.
1. 1-1 An Old Friend

A/N: I know what you're thinking. A novelization of a Visual NOVEL? Really? It sounds so pointless, no? Stupid, even. Well, I've spent the better part of the decade wishing to play this game, until last year the wonderful folks at Suikogaiden Translation Project allowed that to come true (They'll be forever remembered in the Suikoden fanworld). Maybe I write this for those who, for whatever reason, are unable to play the game and read the gamescripts, or simply to satisfy my own desire. Regardless, I have taken great care to not using any line from the game to ensure even those who have played could enjoy, and I take creative liberties every now and then.

/

1. An Old Friend

Before joining the Harmonian Southern Frontier Defense Force, Nash Laktje had spent years on the rigorous training of the art of survival. Under his belt was the finest education money and status could buy to prepare him for any kind of situation he might encounter, to groom him into a man worthy of Laktje name.

During his tenure in the HSFDF, he had successfully accomplished countless missions, dealing with all sorts of trouble and foiled plans and life threatening conditions. He had the experience of socializing with the ragtag bunch of misfits comprising his special ops unit, even tackling the most awkward of team assignments with them. Nash Laktje wasn't a green new face in the darker side of the world. However, nothing in his twenty-two years of life prepared him to deal with this.

To deal with a vampire over a century old.

Who had taken a liking to his blood.

/

"That was quick. I thought you'll last longer. Guess I overestimate your ability."

The white haired girl smirked, legs sprawled carelessly over her suitcase while his companion panted for his life. His face was slick with sweat and red with anger.

"Damn it, woman! Do you have no mercy at all?"

In different circumstance, he could see his sister Julie scowling at him for the language. He couldn't bring himself to think about that now. She merely rolled her eyes at the complaint.

Never in his wildest dream Nash saw this happening. Traveling to the City-State on foot required more or less two had been on the road for three, first because he lost the map in the middle of his quarrel with this old bat of a girl, and second because he couldn't walk any faster with a giant suitcase on his back with its none-too-pleasant owner. Having denied the chance to hitch a ride earlier that day, there was no choice but hope to make it to the border before dark. He wasn't going to spend another day camping with this old hag. It would be somewhat more bearable if she hadn't threatened to drink his blood once every few hours.

The lead had better be worth it, Nash grumbled inwardly. This True Rune thing might grant its master eternal youth, but it certainly wouldn't protect against senility, if the 'lady' he carried was any proof. Too bad, really, because she was actually cute when she kept his mouth shut. Pretty innocent-looking too when sleeping.

He shuddered when he realized where his thoughts were leading. He must had suffered severe exhaustion and too much exposure to Dunan's scorching summer heat. Yes, Nash blamed the weather for the randomness of his mind. Certainly he had lost his senses to even think about the sadistic woman in such light. Perhaps he had to blame his stomach too. He had forgotten the last time he had eaten anything substantial.

The bottom line was clear: he was in no condition to continue traveling. So, in what could only be labeled foolishness in retrospect, the prospect of a decent rest robbed him of any logic and suspicion when Sierra told him they would be passing a friend's mansion soon. Sierra. Friend. Normally his brain would have trouble connecting the two words.

They were surprisingly welcomed despite arriving in such weird hours without notice. He briefly wondered about the butler's recognition of Sierra. Was she a regular guest? Well, perhaps in all her years, she had actually managed to forge some useful contacts.

/

A young servant was waiting for them, guiding them to a luxurious room in rivalry to the Laktje household. Sierra didn't waste the provided hospitality, asking immediately for hot water bath and food. Nash, while trying to keep the politeness for them both, was actually relieved for the service because he really couldn't stand the muscle ache worming in his whole body any longer. Ridding off the grimes from his body was a nice bonus.

The window couldn't be opened, somehow. As he looked around, the other windows were also shut tightly. He couldn't see a mansion built on such a strange piece of land visited often, so perhaps the servants did themselves a favor and didn't bother to open them everyday. Ayana, the servant, offered to fetch the key. They had taken advantage of her too much, thought Nash, so he decided to fetch it himself instead. In that half-second timeframe he thought he saw Sierra seething, so perhaps a bit of flirtations he attached to the request was inappropriate...

He was just trying to lighten the mood. What was the problem with her?

/

His mood improved considerably after bath, which he hoped worked as well to Sierra. He couldn't stand dealing with her attitude for the rest of the night when they actually could rest. In a real bed.

She sat on the bed facing the window, her face sporting a pensive look. He really had to admit, out of her stern expression and annoying comments, she was actually pretty. And...so normal for someone supposedly so old. She probably wouldn't appreciate the thought, so he wisely kept it to himself.

"What?"

"No, nothing..."

She noticed his absentmindedness, but this time no comment came out. Living for centuries...how did it feel? He was merely twenty-two but with everything he had gone through he might as well be over forty...yes, one might have chosen the number to estimate his mental age. But a hundred or two?

She smiled so good-naturedly, probably mistaking his sudden silence as one of his quirks. He didn't complain.

Forever was a long time...

A flash of image. There was Zaj, then Julie, then Aunt Lena, and he decided against asking about that particular question.

Everyone had their own demons.

/

Dinner was served in cold exchange of words. As of now, Nash had gotten enough of the unusual situation. Sierra sent her greeting to the house owner, but smile didn't reach her eyes and the butler seemed to radiate extreme unease. With his senses returning, he began to feel something was amiss.

Yes, something was definitely fishy. Like always though, Sierra would not tell him anything before she decided it as time for him to know. He hated this. With burning passion. He would only get to know when whatever would happen finally happened. He didn't like that at all.

Instinct kept him from sleeping. He hadn't had any real sleep since the day he left his house, but it was not everyday he woke up sensing bloodlust all over the place. He scrambled to wake Sierra, only to find her wide and alert, poising oh so calmly and innocently. He growled. She _knew_ it was going to happen. _She damn knew_.

A scant few seconds later, footsteps could be heard approaching the door. They didn't bother concealing their movements anymore. What kind of enemies exuded such confidence? He turned his brain gear to decide the best course of action as fast as he could. At last, he upturned nearby furnitures and shattered a full-body mirror in the corner of the room. It would buy them some time as he laid out the next set of traps. The door barged in to reveal several sickly green people with red eyes, one hundred percent not friendly. Undead.

He eyed Sierra who gave him a curtsy nod. He groaned. He should have known.

"My old friend? He's the same as me, naturally."

/

Report-01

Mission Code XXX

Vampire blends well with human.


	2. 1-2 The Founder's Regret

The Founder's Regret

The delightful dinner and the comfort of hot water bath seemed like a faraway past as they navigated their way out of the mansion. He should not let his guard down earlier and memorized the layout when they entered that evening. What a fatal blunder... It was confusing, maze-like corridors spanning just about everywhere. The undeads, long since parted from their minds, chased them with utmost willpower. So far in his journey, Nash Laktje had learnt that whoever said experience was the best teacher must be living in some sort of God blessed cocoon. There was no use in having instinct and experience if one was bound to be involved in trouble again and again.

No, he thought, veering a bit to the right to dodge a dagger thrown by one of the undeads, there was nothing to be done when you had a companion keen to drag you in her bloody problem.

"So boring. I thought you were from some sort of a special force?"

Nash gritted his teeth. Sierra had not been helpful so far, running calmly beside him and only made any real move to fight when the undeads reached around her comfort zone. Which meant he was largely ignored if the undeads chose to run after him instead.

Yes, so far more snarks had come out of her mouth than spells. This had to be the most difficult pressure test he faced in his career.

"Oh, come on!" he shouted, exasperated. Now that they had made respectable distances from the mindless corpses, Nash took the time to assess the situation. About ten of them were there, and he could see faint traces of two more lurking from the other corridor.

Sierra told him that a good way to beat them was to burn them until they could no longer revive. Undeads couldn't think, so their attacks were haphazard and generally easy to avoid. However, the fact that they were extremely resilient made them formidable opponents in a pack. He had not donned any fire-inducing rune, unfortunately, so there was only one option available. He sighed. He had to let go of his last Flaming Arrows scroll.

"I've been saving these too..."

A bright light emanated from the scroll as he released the energy within. His own magic wasn't exactly praise-worthy, but the narrow passage allowed the fire to spread quickly. At last, their pursuers were reduced to a pile of ash. Sierra hummed in approval, but now in the midst of his frustrations, he could see that she was wearing a tired expression, as if the years her appearance deceived finally came out to form a shadow over her face.

He had no time to mull over this new discovery because he found himself almost pinned to the wall by a set of glistening daggers. Only they weren't daggers. A grinning butler came into view. He belatedly realized hose 'daggers' were actually nails. Several inches long, each glowed silvery-white under the moon. He cringed inwardly. If he lived to tell of the night, he could amuse his friends in the special ops for several years in a row.

"You didn't tell him of my presence," accused Sierra, clearly referencing the butler. She didn't seem happy about this. Her lips curled in distaste, her arms crossed menacingly. The butler went back to his act, giving her a perfect bow, only done mockingly.

"I cannot inform the master of the founder's presence. You shall die here!"

So another battle commenced. Unlike the zombies they fought earlier, the butler moved with both determination and strategy. He was like a trained soldier, employing tactics in addition to sheer power. They had the advantage considering the battle was two-on-one, but like before, Sierra didn't do much to aid him when he was tossed to the floor, or when he had to duck a really close call to his artery, or when he attempted a barrel roll to the other side of the brick wall. Oh, she even had the decency to roll her eyes!

She was doing that to infuriate him, if Nash guessed it right. Heaven knew why. Didn't she understand there was a life at stake, _his_ life?

"You are quite nimble, but it won't be for long, you see..."

The butler closed his eyes. Nash braced for what unmistakably an incoming onslaught. He had to concentrate fully to avoid those slashes, each coming in with more speed than before. He couldn't do much damage on his own, and the butler was right. He couldn't avoid the attack forever. Time to rely on his wit, then. Insisting to battle wouldn't improve his position much.

He had another problem too. As the soreness of his muscles became evident, an uneasy tingling came from the twin swords strapped to his back. He had to end the battle before the temptation to use them overshadowed his better judgment. Grosser Fluss wasn't meant to be used for this. He wasn't going to let himself fall to the curse so easily.

Annoying or not, he was not alone. He could believe these True Rune bearers had abnormally long lifespan, but he didn't believe the runes could help piece their users back together after being impaled by the swords. Going berserk would only make the situation worse.

He readied a scroll, glancing hopefully to Sierra. Please, she had to understand what he was meaning to say!

"Flaming Arrows!"

Sierra's eyes widened a bit. "You said you ran out of them."

The butler made a defensive stance right away, but he snorted when a second passed and nothing happened. A sheepish look crossed Nash's face. That was their last chance. With a renewed fervor, the butler lunged forward to stab Nash.

Nash could feel the wall on his back. Grosser Fluss was becoming even more impatient. Just a bit more...He should be able to hold on...

"Running up of your little tricks? You'll have forever in death to play with them!" the butler roared. Nash used everything he had left to prevent the nails from injuring his vitals. One finally pinned him to the wall.

_Please Sierra, do it quickly..._

And he saw it n the corner of his eyes. He smirked at his captor, all too boastful grinning with manic glint in his eyes.

"I hope we never have to meet again."

The butler vanished along with a heart-rending surge of magic and white light. Sierra leapt to his side.

For a moment neither moved.

"You..should have told me earlier that you have something to beat them," he said once he found his breath again.

Sierra shrugged almost nonchalantly.

"I am the bearer of the Blue Moon Rune. I've lived far longer than you. You think I rush to this raid without any preparation? Well, you sure take a long time figuring that out."

Nash touched his neck. A close call. A _really_ close call...

"Had I not known of the spell's activation time, I would think you purposely prolong it just to spite me out."

"Would you?"

Ouch. It appeared that she had taken offense from the statement. Well, nobody pegged him to be a 1000-year-old-vampire charmer.

"Let's go. It won't do if we waste more time here."

He nodded, sending a faraway look towards the hallway behind them. If everyone in the castle was a creature of the night, then Ayana should be one too. He shuddered. That sweet little girl! With his current condition and meager supplies, he couldn't afford initiating another lengthy battle.

Tempting fate.

Tempting fate. That was his talent.

Just as he finished the thought, the familiar thumping footsteps came from somewhere below them.

"It seems like our friends are catching up."

He sighed.

/

They went through several flights of stairs and endless empty corridors. The room hiked even higher as night stretched. At last, they stopped before a giant gate leading to the mansion's tower. It was sturdy, with oversized locks preventing them from moving further.

Taking several minutes to analyze the structure, Nash decided their best bet was to explode it altogether. There wasn't much gunpowder left in his traveling satchel, but it should be enough. Given a little bit of time, he could create a basic Howling Voice explosives.

"Sierra? Can you hold them up for a while?"

Sierra gave him an affirmative nod, steeping forward to set up a barrier. The sound was getting nearer. Once the barrier was completed, she leaned on him. Clearly whatever magic she did expensed much of her energy. He could feel her breath ragged a little. She sighed, examining her pale fingers as he shifted ever so slightly to test the weak spots in the wooden contraption.

The undeads came towards them, but they couldn't walk past Sierra's barrier. With that separating them from the flesh-eating monsters, Nash dropped his tenseness to focus on his craft. Silence felt awkward so he attempted a small talk.

"Who is this 'friend' of yours?"

When she replied, he was surprised to hear the tremble in her voice. He tilted his head to get a clearer look of her face. The confident, bossy woman was gone and in her place was a weary, wistful girl.

"There is a tale, a long one, and most likely boring. You don't need to listen."

'_Girls want to be heard when they say so.'_

Julie's voice reverberated in his head, calling for him from years in the past.

Sierra began her story.

/

It was almost like a fairy tale, only too grim and too real. She told him of her centuries of loneliness after she acquired the rune, of the day she met and saved a young man's life and fell in love with him over the coming years. She told him of a village they built and the family they made from people who had initially given up on their lives.

She told him of when the tragedy struck, when a newcomer named Neclord stole her True Rune. They could survive without blood as long as the rune was around, but when it was gone from the village, they had to choose between death or going rogue. One by one people she held dear was claimed by the reaper, the others who couldn't bear the reality fell into insanity. Some, including her lover, went on to feed on innocent humans.

She told him a tale of love and betrayal, of selfishness and selflessness.

As the real bearer, she was not affected by the loss of the rune. In the wake of destruction she made up her mind to pursue every single villager who had chosen the path of bloodlust, bringing end to their borrowed time.

She blamed herself. If she hadn't granted the power of the rune to those people, if she hadn't gathered them into the village, if she was not so careless with her rune, if he hadn't saved Rean Penenberg the knight that day and accepted her fate to be alone until the end of time...

As she poured her feelings into words, letting out what seemed to be decades of pent-up emotions, his earlier complaints of her gradually vanished, replaced with sympathy to the girl who shouldered too much burden on her own. She finished her story by the time he finished his 'bomb'. She noticed the change on his stance.

"That was so slow. I spilled too much already,"she pouted.

"The story. I'm sorry that you have to tell it."

"I told you, you didn't have to listen."

There, in what probably the rarest moment of vulnerability in her life, was Sierra Mikain looking over the moon with mournful gaze, her hair and robe silvery blue under the illumination. She looked like the image of a Harmonian goddess he once saw in the church his mother brought him to when he was little. Like many other things, it was something Nash Laktje would never tell her. He did, however, capture the sight in his memory.

The oddly serene moment ended as the barrier light faded, placing them once again under the siege of dead bodies. Nash tinkered with the bomb's trigger.

"Stand back and we'll see how much I'm worth."

It was a pretty explosion, if he was allowed to comment.

/

Report-02

Mission code XXX

The Blue Moon Rune is under possession of someone named 'Neclord'. Possible power-reanimating corpses.


	3. 1-3 The Shadow of the Moon

The Shadow of the Moon

Nash could never understand the beauty of a pipe organ. A staple in Harmonin churches, the sight of one always brought shudders to his skin. The sound was eerie and ironic, trembling with unexplainable mirth. He used to cringe whenever he heard one played.

Naturally he had known that this room, filled with graceful pipe organs in all their golden glory, spelt bad luck. Well, it was much too late to back out, and Nash Laktje made his name known amongst the special ops members for getting out of slippery situations like a mad eel.

Meanwhile, the master of the house, having recognized who barged in his leisure time came to face his guests. Tension hung in the air as the music from on the pipe organs stopped.

He could pass for a pretty soldier boy, which he might had been in the past, had it not for his menacing fangs. And those suspicious black capes, Nash later added. Rean Penenberg. Sierra's ex-lover, a runaway vampire.

"Well, well, if it isn't Sierra. An honor to meet you again."

"Stop it. You know what I'm here for."

Rean feigned hurt. Nash felt misplaced between the two of them.

"I thought you'd like a more heartfelt reunion."

Nash didn't know whether he had to be glad because the situation grew to be one he had been accustomed to or annoyed because it was going to be a tiring battle once again. Well, if luck was on their side, it should be the last for that night. They could reach Muse the following day, and he could restock his supplies. That thought kept him sufficiently motivated.

The battle was long and arduous as expected. After a while, Nash could feel the rhythm of the fight, maneuvering and attacking almost automatically as his mind searched for a better way to end this in their favor. Rean was not as quick as the butler, thankfully, but definitely better in this.

He was nearing his limit by the time they moved out of the pipe organ room, him running towards the rooftop. Rean was still agile. Even with Sierra actively assisting this time, they had difficult times. Beside, he was never really good fighting with bare hands. They went through the mansion with an assortment of items he had at hand, and he had used them all up. Now it was simple, quick and dirty battle, no more cheap tricks.

He gave up to Grosser Fluss. The twin swords hummed to life as he dragged them out of their scabbards. Sierra was nowhere nearby. It was a good chance. Weapon in hand, he charged for the offensive. Rean evaded the snake-like blades. No time to doubt. The fight picked up on pace again, the two coming face to face with each other. Slash. Turn. Crash.

Rean got the upper hand as he caught Nash ahold.

"I guess this is your end, boy."

Nash was inclined to disagree.

From Rean's back, Sierra soared into view, her figures outlined by the namesake of her rune. His shocked face was only a second too late.

/

It truly wasn't his place to see, thought Nash, as the twisted love story began to inch closer to its tragical conclusion. Sierra's hand, impaling Rean's stomach, intertwined with his own bloody ones. The bizarre half hug was full of unspoken emotions. Tears rained down their cheeks, mourning the cruel fate that had befallen on them.

Even to him, it was too painful to watch. How did they feel right then? There, under the moon full and blue, the couple stood in silence, counting the last few second they could have together. It was gruesome. It defied everything from a fairy tale romance. It was just so wrong.

He heard Rean's last words echoing in the solemn night.

"I just want to live with you again...forever..."

/

It was nothing short of amazing they could continue their journey that night like nothing happened. He refrained from saying much, but a quick appraisal of her demeanor told him that although she had decided to put that brave look on her face, that unfazed and annoying I-don't-care-smile like before, she was shaken hard. How he had misjudged her all these times.

Well, if she resorted to conceal her ordeal, who was he to comment? He could do nothing but play along with her game. For once in the time they spent together on the road, the walk to Muse was relatively quiet.

They found an inn in the edge of the forest nearing sunrise. All the exhaustion caught up with him and he suspected though she might not be a mortal, she was not susceptible to mental fatigue. It was time to call it a day.

They were truly lucky this time too. Apparently the landlady had just recovered from an illness and was happy to give them big discount, even fixing them a hearty meal in a heartbeat. He didn't have much money, and wouldn't have until they reached his contact in Muse. At the entrance, he was prepared to ask for any place available to sleep with the amount he brought, even the stable. A warm soup before heading to bed was very gracious of her, and very appropriate after everything they encountered that night.

He climbed up the bed, letting the soft linen embraced him. His mind was in order. He wouldn't bug Sierra of anything pertaining the True Runes for time being. It was justified; she was the only lead and he couldn't afford to upset her, right? It wasn't like he had any specific deadline either. Slow and easy, that would be how he approach this mission.

He had no chance to see how that plan of his would fare however, because when he was awakened later that day, Sierra was already leaving without trace. It took him a second until he realized that once again, he had no lead in this wild-goose chase.

/

Report-03

Mission Code XXX

Vampires don't dislike sunlight. It's a myth.

Undeads burn, however.

-end of episode 1 "Visitors"


End file.
